


Almost a Love Story

by Muzuki_chan



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Blackmail, F/M, Ganguro Girls, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 18:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20087032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muzuki_chan/pseuds/Muzuki_chan
Summary: For the last two weeks, it hasn’t been a secret that Youko Miyajima has a crush on her boyfriend. At least Mika was nice enough to heed Seiji’s request to let him try to handle things on his own, but even she has a limit to her patience. Asking for more time is like begging for there to be more places to go when a train has already reached its final stop; her generosity has run out and now Youko is at the end of the line.





	Almost a Love Story

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, Muzuki-chan here! This was written as an application to the Drrrzine so this work contains a subtle, dark and urban theme throughout. And many thanks to the kind and wonderful flyingisland on ao3 for betaing this and pushing it to the next level, I couldn't have done this without her. She's also an amazing writer who's written for both the drrr and vld fandom, so if you're interested, check her out!! (❁´▽`❁)°˖✧˖°

Not that anyone is asking, but Mika Harima is a firm believer that if you love someone, then it should be acted upon with a full-throttle, all-consuming kind of love or else there is nothing to separate you from the crowd. She knows that the majority of people in this day and age will disagree with her views. Some might even go as far as to sneer and mock her from a safe distance just to stay in everyone else’s good favor, but unlike them, she isn’t a coward. Mika isn’t going to allow herself to be like everyone else—meek, spineless, and uncommitted—when fair-play in love and war is just an unsaid obligation to those who feel entitled to a handicap.

The doorknob in her hand gives out a pitiful, near-silent creak as she stands by the threshold of the classroom door and watches the scene before her unfurl like carrion flowers beginning to bloom. It is somehow a breathtaking and repulsive sight all in one. Whether it’s a strange and unsavory pet peeve or a distasteful belief, Mika just can’t find it anywhere in her heart to be understanding or to feel anything remotely nice for the girls who wouldn’t even _ try _ for the sake of love; even more so for the ones who plant their unwanted eyes on her beloved Seiji.

And Youko Miyajima happens to be one of them.

“So I’ve heard that you and Seiji-kun have been getting pretty close lately.”

Mika supposes that there isn’t always a justifiable moment where blunt coyness can be served back its own vexing concoction of a statement, but right now it looks like the perfect chance. She’s also beginning to think that maybe it’s time to tell a _ certain someone _ that bashful attempts of denying unrequited attraction, yet yearning for it to be returned at the same time from someone who is romantically unavailable, stops looking cute at some point.

For the last two weeks, it hasn’t been a secret that Youko Miyajima has a crush on her boyfriend. At least Mika was nice enough to heed Seiji’s request to let him try to handle things on his own, but even she has a limit to her patience. Asking for more time is like begging for there to be more places to go when a train has already reached its final stop; her generosity has run out and now Youko is at the end of the line.

“Oh c’mon, Youko-chan! Do you at least know his birthday?”

Youko is leaning against the windowsill of one of the classrooms many windows with a frown on her face as her gaggle of friends corner her further against the glass for the time being. She huffs loudly in protest, crossing her arms while she gives half of them nasty glares and the others a disapproving look. The fierce scowl on her face doesn’t liberate her but leads to another bombardment of nosy questions that Youko would know the answer to by now if she was actually serious.

“Just because we’re doing a club project together doesn’t mean he likes me like _ that _.”

“But _ you _ like him like that, Youko-chan.”

The scowl morphs into an unattractive grimace. “Piss off, Akie.”

“I’m just trying to help!” Akie snickers as Youko playfully shoves her into another friend who cackles at the failed attempt. “Well if you don’t know his birthday then what about his favorite color?”

Akie throws her hands up in a mock of surrender when Youko flips all of them off. The roll of her eyes entices another stream of teasing words from her friends that hold no bite. She pays none of it any attention though as she chews her bottom lip, switching the weight of her body from one leg onto another before raising a hand to twirl a loose lock of dyed-brown hair between her fingers.

“Listen,” Youko says. “He has a girlfriend.”

Another girl who has done nothing but laugh finally joins the conversation. She stares at Youko with disbelief coloring her voice and a raised brow that leaves her expression bordering between incredulous and amused. “Like you actually give a shit about that.” Akie feigns shock as she lets out a high-pitched gasp but the girl pays no attention to it other than replying with a scoff and a lazy, laid-back shrug. “Besides, weren’t you saying that his girlfriend is fucking crazy? You’re so much better for him—”

Mika isn’t sure what startles her more into a panic: the studder of breath that lodges itself like a knife in her throat when saliva goes down the wrong pipe, dragging a hoarse screech out of her mouth like a stubborn cat, or the hand that drops on her shoulder causing said reaction. Both of them are equally humiliating in their own ways but there’s a different tinge of vile mortification that lingers under the skin when caught eavesdropping. Her hands immediately release their hold on the doorknob in exchange for digging her nails against the fleshy bits of her palm. Eloquently garbled words strung together into sentences form on the tip of her tongue as she fumbles for broad excuses as to why she’s caught in whatever position this looks like, but the strikingly handsome face and the familiar scent of mint and cheap cologne soothes her raised hackles back down to normal.

Seiji tilts his head to the left. An eyebrow is raised and the press of his thin lips is pulled into a small, sluggish hint of a smile. The hand on her shoulder trails down the length of her arm until he can slot his fingers between the gaps of hers. Their clasped hands and entangled fingers fit together seamlessly, like a perfect mold. The sensation of his skin against hers softens the spikes of sour, acidic stings of shame into a malleable ball of muted warmth in Mika’s chest.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that.” His eyes never leave her face even when he pulls her away from the door to where they can stand together without being interrupted. “I thought you would have heard me coming up from behind you.”

Mika laughs as she clings to the arm belonging to the hand that is keeping her fingers captive. “That was mean, Seiji, you can’t just pop up and scare me like that—unless you mean to tell me that was your goal!”

It’s the knowing glint in his eyes and the way he playfully scoffs that makes her heart race. It’s tacky and overly cheesy in the strangest of ways, but when Seiji stares at her like that, suddenly, flowers begin to grow from the depths of her chest and spring forth in full bloom between the grooves of her rib cage. Seiji doesn’t make an effort to voice his opinions but Mika shrugs it off anyways as she fills up the silence between them.

She babbles on about things that don’t even matter but sound good enough to voice out loud like, _ ‘Maybe next time you can surprise me on purpose, doesn’t that sound romantic?’ _ and then with a cooing fondness once in a while, _ ‘Aw, Seiji, we’re just so passionately in love with each other, can you believe it’ _. Halfway through the conversation between herself and Seiji’s accommodating hums of constant agreement, Mika isn’t sure what brings her to a stop, but the words still get caught in her throat anyway.

Maybe it’s the way she notices how softly he rubs his thumb against the back of her hand like there’s an unseen ache he feels the need to pacify, or how his brown eyes glaze over like someone poured a glass of cold milk into them with a shaky hand—

“...I don’t think you’re as crazy as they say you are.”

—though perhaps it could also just be the fact that he’s starting to love her in return in ways she didn’t expect. But Mika prides herself on never being one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Unconventional, maybe,” Seiji mumbles quietly as if it’s a personal afterthought he doesn’t realize is being said out loud, “but not totally unreasonable.”

Mika lets her hands do all the talking for her when his unpredictable statements catch her off guard and render her speechless. Her nails dig through the starch fabric of his school blazer to the point where he can’t stay oblivious to how she feels, but he continues to remain quiet while he pulls her in closer to where he can tuck her face under the crook of his neck. Moments like these are priceless and reminds her that everything she does and will do in the name of Seiji’s love is worth it.

“Looks like your club meeting is about to start. Unfortunately, I can’t join you today because I promised Anri that I’d help her with the English assignment that’s due tomorrow.” Inhaling the synthetic aroma of sandalwood and pine with a small hum of smug satisfaction, she releases one hand from its deathly grip on Seiji’s arm and brings it up to trace the edge of his jawline. She exhales then and hopes it doesn’t sound like the breathless laugh that it is. “Make sure you don’t fall in love with that project partner of yours while I’m gone, okay?”

Seiji’s unoccupied hand raises to cup her chin and he looks at her with a piercing stare full of conviction and blind faith. “I would never betray my love for you.”

“I know.”

She pulls away from his loose embrace just to lunge forward on the tips of her toes to press a kiss against the still-smooth skin of his cheek. Mika isn’t particularly a big fan of quiet goodbyes, but she finds that this is just as good as any other romantic departure she’s made in the past when Seiji lets her drift out of his arms without a word. _ ‘He’s kind like that,’ _ she thinks when the melting heat of his gaze follows her until she’s engulfed by the crowd of students loitering in the hall. _ ‘Because even though he knows what I’m going to do next, he still lets me go with high hopes that I might decide not to do it anyway.’ _

Seiji has always been too chivalrous to avoid dangerous situations, especially if it’s motivated by feelings such as guilt or uncertainty about how to tread on certain situations that leave him out of his depth. But that’s when Mika feels like her expertise comes in handy, taking the worries off his shoulder and taking these troublesome matters into her own hands. That’s why Mika finds herself seated on one of the many cheap, off-brand office chairs in the dimly-lit computer lab that’s right next door to the school library. At first she had entertained the idea of going home to use her laptop that’s more equipped to deal with locked accounts and finding hidden text messages that have long since been deleted, but her stomach had flipped itself into knots at the thought of being so far away from Seiji.

She pats herself on the back for finding a computer that doesn’t need to be fiddled around with just to get it turned on, but the drawbacks of finding one so easily on the first try are loud and clear when a shiver of gut-churning revulsion makes her grimace at how the space around it looks like a pigsty. There are bread crumbs stuck between the spaces of the keyboard and there are sticky smudges on the table that tell of how many times a soft drink had been tipped over on accident. So maybe it’s not the prettiest prize winner but at least the scrolling function on the computer mouse’s trackball works and that has to count for something.

Over the years of trials and tribulations, Mika has learned that the best and easiest way of learning almost everything as intimately as possible about another person could be simply started by just typing their name onto every social media platform’s search bar. Of course, one could always just pay an info broker to find all the messy details without needing to break a sweat, but Mika finds that there is nothing quite as liberating and highly-addicting as digging through the social boundaries of another, like it’s just mud, with her bare hands.

Mika easily finds several of Youko’s social media accounts without even struggling to search for them. Most of them are public and some of them are private, but they’re all easy to crack into anyways so it barely makes a difference. An hour passes by and it’s shocking to remember how the internet is as amazing as it is terrifying on how easy it can be to just look someone up and find every single nasty detail about them. She finds that Youko is nothing but just a bottomless pit of bad opinions and horrible taste. 

Youko is quite the talker in both reality and online, it seems. Everything that she posts tells Mika that Youko is quite possibly the type of person who talks without restraint or clue on how to back it up. Most of the things she says online are cringe-inducing, but half of it is just desperately sad. And so it’s with one last blow of kindness from one girl to another that Mika decides to only put together a forty-five paged packet and not the behemoth of a novel that it could have been.

So when tomorrow comes, and there’s a flooding rumor that someone’s false gossip and hateful comments have washed up in the hands of everyone who wasn’t meant to see them, Mika will pretend that she’s none the wiser.

(❁˖✧˖❁)

Love is nothing but an expensive theatrical play filled with poetic romance, symbolic fashion, and beautifully poignant exaggeration that leaves a crowd begging for more. Whether it’s a love story with a dash of comedy or a tantalizing courtship that oozes with sinful debauchery and second chances, romance has and will always be a stable crowd-pleaser, and Mika is nothing but a willing tribute to its captivating call. Most of the time though, love is shown to either bring out the best or worst in a person.

But right now—she counts the seconds ticking by while her eyes stare through the inch-wide gap between the door and the walls of the toilet stall, watching for the last unwanted guest to leave so she can make her grand entrance—Mika is going to demonstrate on how to do both.

Eventually, there’s only one pair of shoes scuffling around the tiles of the empty restroom. The sound of rubber soles sliding against the floor harmonizes with the constant sniffling and loud, mechanical groans from the paper towel dispenser. Mika wonders if she’s already just that bored if this sounds like a symphony in her ears. She counts to three in her head before rising from her seated position on the closed toilet lid, clicking the lock of her stall door open.

Mika makes direct eye contact with a sniveling Youko Miyajima and she can’t help but smile when Youko throws herself back into constant motion with no specific end goal but to just grab for more paper towels.

“Bad day, huh?”

She steps forward and uses the empty sink to Youko’s left to wash her hands before peering into the giant mirror that they both share. Mika doesn’t have to look to know that Youko’s eyes flicker to her face and back to her own while they stand together in the heavy silence of the restroom. She coughs, inwardly laughing at how she can see Youko’s movements go stagnant for a split second, then stutters back into motion like Mika’s going to stab her in the gullet at any moment if she stops paying attention to her.

“You know, I used to wear lipstick a lot in Junior High.” Mika turns to Youko and offers a friendly smile before looking down at the small, black handbag sitting on the flat top of the porcelain sink that’s filled to the brim with familiar cosmetic brands. “But then I started wearing lip tints when I found out that the guy I liked wasn’t really into bold colors. I guess you could say that I think we’re both pretty similar. Not that I was into ganguro fashion back in the day, but to each their own.”

Youko meets her gaze once before turning down to stare at what could possibly be her own face beamed back to her in the reflective metal of the water-stained faucet. She doesn’t utter a single word or sound but the heavy drawl of breath that sounds wet with phlegm. Mika deduces that this is about as talkative as Youko is going to get.

“My boyfriend, Seiji, likes the color red. He always tries to wear that color somewhere on his body. Sometimes it’ll be his boxers and other times it’ll be a streak of color on his shoes. He’s kind of a strange fanatic like that over the color red, but I think it’s kind of cute, don’t you think so?” Mika laughs then when she sees a sheer, pearlescent red lip gloss poking out of Youko’s little black bag and reaches for it without permission. Youko doesn’t stop her, but Mika didn’t expect her to. “His birthday is also on the thirteenth of June, but everyone who’s friends with him knows that because it’s always pretty close to the start of the school year. It’s also posted in his bio on all of his social media pages, but who’s really looking for that kind of information anyway? It’s not really important to know unless you're his friend or something.”

“Why did you do that to me?” Youko’s voice trembles and cracks as it raises in volume. “I’ve never done anything to you. I don’t even fucking know you that well so—why are you _ threatening _ me?”

Mika takes a small breath. She makes an effort to brush up the loose strands of hair that frame her face and tucks them behind her ear before turning to give Youko a dubious and unimpressed look. With a roll of her eyes she turns her attention back to the lip gloss held between her fingers, watching the way the glitters twinkle brightly like sequins under the fluorescent lighting.

“I don’t think you would even recognize someone threatening you until it hit you in the face, Youko-chan.”

The top of the lip gloss clicks when she twists it open and looks at the large application wand with a grin. Mika swipes the wand of the gloss against her lips and makes sure to go back over each swipe a second time so that the product leaves her lips looking kissable. Her brows furrow when she looks into the mirror and sees how the sheer gloss shines more than it sparkles, but some part of her is satisfied by her act at least even if the gloss didn’t make as much of a statement as she thought it would. But at least it does the job of enforcing the idea in Youko’s head of what she’s about to say next.

“I know you like Seiji, but we’re still dating, so you’re never going to be with him as much as you talked about wanting it to happen. Not that you really did anything, but that’s okay, because at least with this,” Mika gives Youko a dazzling smile as she closes the top of the gloss and drops it back into the makeup bag, “the next time you use it you’ll be able to have an indirect kiss with Seiji. Just think of this as a gift, okay?”

She’s a nice person and always has been, so Mika makes sure to leave Youko with a hearty goodbye and a smile on her face. All while, she tells her that maybe she'll find someone else out there for her. Seiji would be proud of her if he knew, but then he would also find out that she didn’t particularly listen to his request that to handle this by himself. So Mika tucks away into her mind that she’ll just have to deal with celebrating one-sidedly by cooking Seiji his favorite dish for dinner.

_ ‘It was almost a love story for Youko-chan,’ _ Mika thinks to herself as she hears the restroom door close behind her with a heavy clink. _ ‘Too bad she just didn’t want to try.’ _


End file.
